


Your Love, it is My Truth

by thelittlegreennotebook



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romantic Angst, and also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:11:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlegreennotebook/pseuds/thelittlegreennotebook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t deserve a third chance at this moment, not by a long shot, and she’s giving it to him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Love, it is My Truth

**Author's Note:**

> An extension of 4x08, as told by my imagination. A fix-it fic, if you will. Title from Adele’s “Remedy”.

Oliver stays awake long after Felicity falls asleep that night, sitting out on the couch in front of the fire and twisting his mother’s ring over and over between his fingers, watching the play of the firelight against the glimmering diamond.

The ring has been sitting heavy in his pocket and his mind ever since he left Samantha’s house, a hot burn of guilt through the fabric of his leather jacket. 

His mother had lied to him again, and even after all these years, the blunt truth of it scalds over his skin like boiling water. It’s hard to hold a grudge against a woman who gave her life for her family, and yet he finds himself wondering time and time again whether the truth would have saved them all a million years’ worth of hurt.

Barry had told him that he had gotten in a fight with Felicity — that they had ended it, and Oliver can only assume it was because he had lied to her. Yet when the time had come to remedy the situation, he had lied again — like mother, like son.

And for what? To keep his promise to a woman who had withheld the truth from him for nine years? Oliver respects Samantha, and he loved his mother, but if he learned one thing in the past four years — and long before that, if he’s being honest — it is that lying only tarnishes relationships, even long after they’re over and gone.

He pushes to his feet, slipping the ring back into his pocket and climbing slowly up the stairs. When he reaches the doorway to their bedroom, he sees that Felicity wasted no time in sprawling herself across the mattress in his absence, her hand curling around the edge of his pillow searchingly. He smiles faintly and walks over to his side of the bed where her head rests.

“Felicity,” he whispers, crouching down and pushing her hair back from where it’s draped over her mouth. He skims his thumb across her cheek. “Felicity.”

She startles, jerking a little against his hand. “Did I burn them?” she slurs, blinking rapidly.

Oliver chuckles, maintaining the soft stroke of his fingers against her skin. “No, you didn’t burn anything.”

“Oh,” she says, relaxing back into his touch, “okay.”

Her eyes become more focused, and a little line forms between her eyebrows as she takes in the expression on his face. She rubs at her eyelids with the pads of her fingers before propping herself up on her elbow, and his hand falls away form her face. “Are you okay?”

There’s a familiar clench in his stomach at her question, voices in his head telling him that lying is easier — that in this moment, it will hurt her less. But the open earnestness in her face calls out to him more truly than those voices have in years.

“I was lying, earlier,” he says, the words dropping like stones from his mouth, “when I said I had nothing to tell you.”

She tilts her head at him, her eyes glinting with sleep-clouded amusement. “No,” she says, “really?”

His lips lift fractionally, because of course she knew, but his eyes avert from her gaze.

“Hey,” she says, lacing her free hand with the one of his that rests against the mattress. “You can tell me.”

“I told someone that I wouldn’t,” he explains. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Oliver, if you’re upholding someone else’s trust, then —“

Oliver shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says. “Please don’t say that. Because I have to tell you — I _want_ to tell you the truth. But you — it has to stay between us, okay? I’m not…I’m not ready for anyone else to know.”

Felicity nods slowly. “Okay,” she says readily. “Between us.”

A path of shame sears its way through his chest for a moment, because the ease with which she agrees, with which she trusts him — she will always be too good for him, and he can’t believe he didn’t make this decision the first — second — time around, convincing himself instead that he’d tell her _soon_.

He doesn’t deserve a third chance at this moment, not by a long shot, and she’s giving it to him anyway.

He won’t make the same mistake again, no matter what she thinks of him afterwards. Life is a fickle fiend, and he won’t have her harboring the same anger for him that he holds towards his mother when there are no guarantees of what tomorrow will bring.

“I have a son,” he says, dropping his gaze and fixing it on where her fingers freeze between his. “I figured it out a few days ago, but I just went to…confirm things yesterday, and I — I have a son, Felicity. In Central City.”

“Oliver…”

“I-I didn’t know,” he rushes to explain, terrified to try and decipher, even for a moment, the devastated tone of her voice. “My mother…she told Samantha — she paid her off. Told her to tell me that she miscarried….years ago. Before the island, and I — I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have told you.”

He swallows and closes his eyes, letting his confession hang in the air between them. She withdraws her hand from his and he thinks that’s it, that’s her decision, but then —

“Hey,” Felicity says, her fingers relocating to smooth along his stubble. “It’s okay, Oliver,” she says, pressing against his chin to raise his eyes to hers. The unmistakable love and hope he sees in the deep, clear blue of her eyes is more than he deserves — it’s always more than he deserves. “I’m not mad.”

His eyes widen. “No?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m glad you told me. Once you tell me things, I can help you with them, remember?”

Oliver nods, a glimpse of a smile ghosting across his face, and his mood doesn’t feel chained down by the weight of a thousand bricks anymore. Because Felicity knows, and everything is going to be okay.

“Teammates,” he says, and Felicity smiles back at him.

“Teammates.”

They sit there in silence for a few minutes, and Oliver lets his eyes shut again against the rhythm of her fingers traveling over his skin. He feels his shoulders slump, exhaustion sweeping through his body now that the anxiety is gone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks quietly.

“Not really,” he murmurs. “Not tonight. Is that okay?”

He feels the movement of her nod, and then she’s tugging him up, scooting away from his side of the bed to make room.

“Of course that’s okay. Tomorrow, maybe?” she asks.

He crawls back in beside her and wraps her up in his arms. She curls into them as easily as she did the night before, and the night before that, and he thinks about how effortless she makes it to live like this, out in the light.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees.

She drifts off to sleep before him again, her breath steady against his collarbone, and he adjusts just enough to slide the ring out of his pocket and back into the depths of his cluttered nightstand drawer.

 _Soon_ , he thinks to himself as the diamond disappears amongst the careful clutter of his belongings. He’ll do it soon.

And this time, it’s not a secret or a lie or anything that needs a first, second, third chance. The ring is the promise of tomorrow and forever and the closest thing he’s ever found to the happiness he convinced himself, once upon a time, that he could never have. It’s a promise he made to himself under no illusions, as true as the shine of the stars and turn of the world and the beat of Felicity’s heart against his. And because it’s her, because it’s Felicity, the promise is one Oliver intends to keep.


End file.
